another day, not a mother
and two other poems about grief and remembrance
I’ve been writing poetry.
It’s shorter than prose, sometimes.
It lets me breathe differently—more slowly, less rigidly—as I approach the page.
When words or phrases linger, poetry lets me make of them what I will.
“another day, not a mother” came to me in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. It’s a sad poem, I’ll admit. But I love it. So I’m sharing it here with you.
The two other poems are about…well, for one of them, I’ll let you guess. For the other, the meaning will be quite clear.
Enjoy. Thank you for being here.
another day, not a mother
